After Madison
by Obi the Kid
Summary: Dean POV. Tag to the Season 2 episode, "Heart." Dean tries to help Sam deal with Madison's death.


**Title**: After Madison

**Author:** Obi the Kid

**Summary:** Dean POV. Tag to the Season 2 episode, "Heart." Dean tries to help Sam deal with Madison's death.

**Note:** My first ever SEASON 2 story!

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Please forgive any typos. Always hard to make sure you've got them all.

We'd burned the body a few miles out of town in an area dense enough to not attract any unwanted attention. Well, technically, I'd burned the body. Sam waited in the car, silent since his breakdown in the apartment. The tears still came, but the intensity had stopped.

I let him be for now. I'd know if…hell with the if, I'd know _when_ I was needed.

Back at the hotel, Sam had managed through a shower, emerging with exhausted, bloodshot eyes. Looked like he'd been hit by a planet.

Still, I let him be.

He walked by me to his bed and crashed into it, lying on his stomach, arms stretched forward, tucking under the pillow.

Wasn't much time passed before it started though - first with a few hushed whimpers and then his entire body started shuddering.

His face was half buried in the pillow, toward the wall, so I couldn't see his eyes. Not that I needed to. The body language was enough. It wasn't often that my little brother broke down completely, but when he did, he went hard.

When he didn't calm after a few minutes, I moved closer and sat on the edge of his bed. I put a hand on his back and kept still.

Meaningless words like "I'm sorry" or "Everything will be okay" wouldn't mean a damn thing right now. And he didn't need to hear those pointless things anyway…not from me.

As long as I stayed close…

"Right here, Sammy."

The sobs paused briefly and he lay still for a moment as my touch began cutting into his emotionally wrecked psyche.

"We'll stay put for as long as you need."

I adjusted my hand on his back to lie between his shoulder blades and then pulled in soft circles. The heartache began again, but not nearly to the excruciating levels of before. Still, the hours that followed took on the sickening feeling of a roller coaster. Emotions rolling up, down and sideways until his mind and body were worn paper thin.

Total calm did eventually come and when it did, I still didn't leave him. I kept the contact until I knew he'd be okay without it.

I sat on the edge of his bed all night.

He woke around 7am, turning over to face me and offering a hushed, "Hey."

I returned the greeting with a drone, "You look like crap." He did. Sweat and tear stained face and hair. Red rimmed eyes. Pillow lines on his face. He looked like a guy who'd been through hell.

And I guess in Sam's own way, he had.

He turned his head on the pillow to stare at something beyond me. I don't think he was centered on anything in particular, but rather focused on just trying to find himself after an emotionally draining night.

Eventually his eyes refocused from the empty space, to me.

"We got anything to eat?"

"Nothing here, but I can run across the street if you're hungry. Only take a sec."

"Yeah," he nodded after a moment when his head fought with his stomach. "I think so."

I got up and grabbed my jacket and money from the table.

"You good?"

I needed him to tell me that he was okay before I left him alone. Yeah, I know, mother hen, right? But for my own piece of mind, I needed to know he was all right.

"Yeah."

He thought he sounded confident, and I admit it was a nice effort, but I knew better.

I knew my brother.

I didn't leave him.

"Dean."

I sat on my bed, facing his.

"Not yet, Sam."

My brother has the remarkable ability to look half his age when he's unsure or scared. It's a little disconcerting at times because I know what he's capable of as a hunter. But when he gets that look to him, my protective instincts kick into a higher gear.

He nodded an okay to my refusal to leave. Subtle relief trickled across his face at the same time as he settled back into his pillow, eyes still on me.

"You think she's at peace now?"

"I hope so, Sam. She had a good heart. It's not her fault she was turned."

"You think that'll happen to me, Dean?"

"I won't let it happen, Sammy."

A sad, twitchy smile formed on my brother's lips as his mind moved in eight directions at once until finally settling on a single thought.

"You'll save me, huh? Just like dad said."

"You know damn well I will."

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam moved his gaze from me to the ceiling. His eyes were heavy.

I stood and pulled the bed cover up almost to his shoulders and gave him a soft pat on the chest.

"Your eyes are gonna roll outta your head if you don't close them. We'll do food later."

I paused for a deep settling breath and watched my little brother close his eyes. I offered him a cheerless smile, accepting the pain and anguish he was feeling while at the same time understanding the self-abuse that he was self-inflicting for not being able to save a girl who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. A girl - pure and good on the outside, and a man-killing monster on the inside.

Sam saw himself in Madison, and while I could appreciate the emotions of the loss, I couldn't rightfully understand the totality of the inner turmoil that came with it.

What I could do was make sure that it never went this far with Sam.

He would _not_ become a monster. He would _not_ become something that I'd have to kill if I couldn't save. It just wasn't gonna happen. Not on my watch.

"Hey, Dean?"

The somberness of Sam's voice brought me out of my depressing thoughts.

"Sleeping, Sam. Remember?"

"Sorry. You got quiet."

"Just thinkin'."

"That you won't let me turn out like Madison?"

I hate it when he does that.

"Damn it, Sam, stay outta my head. And go to sleep."

He grinned at me and brought his left arm out from under the bed cover, laying his hand palm side up. This was Sam's curbed way of asking for reassurance without actually asking.

I set my hand on his and squeezed lightly.

I say from experience, that little brothers often surprise older ones, and when Sam followed up his non-verbal request with a verbal one, I skillfully managed to hide my astonishment and about tore up my manual on how to raise a younger brother.

"Don't go, Dean. Okay?"

"I won't leave you, Sammy."

My stomach growled – or protested – at just that exact second and Sam stifled a huffed laugh as his bleary eyes came open again.

"You should feed that."

"I plan to. Just…not until you're all right."

"Might be a long time, Dean. I haven't been all right in years."

"So, true, Sammy. So very true," I gave him a smile and a wink, then "We'll plan on dinner, okay? Now for the last time, close your damn eyes before I knock you out. You know I'll keep that promise too, right? Oh and once they're closed, keep them closed. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. So, do as I say."

"Cuz you're the older brother, right?"

"Exactly! Finally, you're catching on, after how many years now?"

Sam gripped my hand, shut his eyes and steadied several deep shuddering breaths in a row, willing the tears to stay away for a while.

I just held tight.

"I mean it, Sam. What happened to Madison ain't happenin' to you. I'll protect you and I'll save you. I swear. It's been my job since I was four, right? That doesn't stop just because you're the size of a moose and you pretend to be all grown up."

His verbal response was a rumbled grunt.

His emotional response was his hand clutching mine.

His physical response was four solid hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I never left his side.

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The end.


End file.
